


He is half of my soul, as the poets say

by brxveSam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s02e22 All Hell Breaks Loose, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6099721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brxveSam/pseuds/brxveSam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deans thoughts after Sam has died at the end of season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He is half of my soul, as the poets say

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to the end of season 2  
> please be nice, english is not my first language. All mistakes are mine  
> please leave a comment if you liked it or if you have some tips for me! I'm always open for criticism.   
> Enjoy!

*He is half of my soul, as the poets say.*

 

They have always been too close. Too close for brothers. Constantly making sure the other one was in arms reach. Always brushing arms while walking or knees touching when they were sitting in a diner booth. From the very beginning they had shared a bed until John forced them to sleep in two beds, saying they were to old to share a bed. That never really stopped them but John didn't need to know that. And honestly..who could blame them? Holding onto the only constant they had in their lifes with everything they got?! Seeking for physical closeness and the need of feeling safe and protected with all that is out there?! It wasn't unnatural for them. They never thought about it being wrong or weird needing that ressuring touch or that long meaningfull glance to make sure the other one was still there, still alright. 

Dean was thinking about all of this because right now he desperately needed that ressuring touch. He desperately missed the times when he and Sam had slept in the same bed, wrapped around each other. He desperately missed Sams bitchface after Dean had told a bad joke or teased him for eating a salad. He desperately missed Sams constant complaining about the bad or too loud music. 

He was sitting in this old dirty cabin, blankly staring at Sams dead body, tears silently dripping down his cheeks, and couldn't stop thinking about their lifes. Why did they deserve this? Didn't they sacrifice enough? Why did he has to loose everything? He honestly didn't care if the apocalypse itself started right fucking now. If some fucking demon came into this room right now he wouldn't fight. There was nothing to fight for. Nothing to live for.

Every fiber of him aches after Sam. His smile. The smile he has reserved only for Dean. The smile that reaches his eyes with full dimples. His stupidly long hair. Having to look up to Sam because that stupid kid outgrew him when he was seventeen. Him sitting next to him in the Impala doing research. Him being incredible smart on a case. Just. Him. 

 

*He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.*

 

He wants Sam to come around the corner right now with a stupid grin on his face. Dean would hug the shit out of him and never let him go ever again. It was his job to look after Sam, to protect him. He had screwed up the only important task that was ever given to him. And Sam had to pay the price for that. If he was being honest to himself...he had screwed that up a long time ago. That fateful night when Sam had told him he was leaving for Stanford. They had cried holding each other as close as possible. Not letting any space between them. Almost as if they tried to become one. Sam had begged him to come with him. Saying no had ripped a hole into Deans heart that he will never be able to close completely. Somhow they had ended up kissing each other. He couldn't remember who initiated and he didn't really care. Their tears mixed and after a while he couldn't tell where he ended and Sammy started. They were just one. They ended up in one bed, sleeping wrapped around each other. Both scared that the other would leave but both knowing that when they would wake up they would no longer be together. Dean had thought he would never see the stupid, stupid, beautiful face of his baby brother again. 

He would never forgive himself for not being strong enough to stay away from Sam.

Why did he even talk him into leaving Stanford?! If he had just tried to find their dad on his own, Sam would still be studying law. More importantly he would still be alive. 

He tried to focus on the good times they had together. Even if their childhood had been fucked up, there were still moments he would always cherish. Like Sams face when he woke up on Christmas morning, seeing some badly packaged present under a 'tree' made out of an old canister, some twigs and decoration from some random gasstation. That kid got excited over the smallest things.   
But honestly..thinking about this made knowing that they won't have any shitty Christmases together ever again so so much harder..if that was even possible. 

He looked at his brother laying a few feet away from him. He looked so peaceful..like he was just sleeping. Getting close he let his hand card through Sams hair. 

'What am I supposed to do?? What am I supposed to do without you?? '

 

*I did not plan to live after he was gone.*

 

He leaned down, pressing a feather light kiss to Sams forhead.   
He was going to make it right. Sam was supposed to get out of this life and he was going to make sure that happened. He knew exactly what he had to do. He didn't even think of any consequences. His mind was full of Sam and only Sam. So he made the same choice their Dad had made. He had never understood how someone could do this until now. With his everything laying dead infront of him, there was never an easier decision to make. 

'It's going to be okay, Sammy. I promise. I'm going to make it okay!'

 

*I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.*


End file.
